


Bucky’s Very Spanky Birthday

by Paraxdisepink



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Birthday Spanking, Bucky Barnes Birthday Spankathon, M/M, Multi, Paddling, Spankings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 08:45:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1298701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paraxdisepink/pseuds/Paraxdisepink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Bucky’s birthday and everyone spanks him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bucky’s Very Spanky Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> Contains minor references to things seen in the Super Bowl trailer for Cap 2. Just skip the Sam section and you’ll be good.

Clint is the first. Bucky walks onto the helicarrier's shooting range and Barton's got one hand behind his back, grinning at him in a way that screams he's hiding something.

"Nice day, huh Barnes?" He lets out an unsteady laugh, angling his body so Bucky can't see what's behind his back as he walks to grab a pair of headphones. It's probably something embarrassing from Stark. 

"I guess." Bucky pops up a target and adjusts his stance, pulling out his pistol.

"Kind of surprised you're here today." 

Clint is right behind him now, within arms' reach. Where the hell is Bucky supposed to be and are they supposed to talk or something? Bucky hasn't done much regular guy talk since the war. Maybe Barton has decided they need to reach an "understanding" about Natasha.

Sighing, Bucky holsters his gun and is just about to turn around and ask what Clint wants when something flat smacks him right on the ass, hard.

Bucky jumps, growling out a loud "what the fuck?" 

Clint hits him on the ass again and then again. Bucky whips around, but Barton keeps moving with him, a wooden paddle in his hand.

He's grinning, even as the next blow comes down with twice the force.

"Happy Birthday, Barnes!"

*

Barton got about thirty blows in chasing Bucky around the shooting range. No one is sure how old he is with his being put in an out of stasis. For his part, Bucky's just surprised Clint even bothered remembering his birthday at all even though it's public knowledge on his stupid Wikipedia page. All he knows though is that Clint's swing isn't weak and his ass stings walking out of there.

At least he got a birthday present, a brand new tactical knife with excellent balance and a good grip.

*

He trains for an hour in the gym and hits the showers afterward. He's got his pants on, thank God, by the time he's combing out his wet hair in front of the mirror. Thank God, because that's when Natalia springs down out of nowhere from a vent in the ceiling.

Bucky doesn't jump. He's not surprised she's so stealthy; he's just surprised she'd want to be in a men's locker room. He wouldn't, if he were a dame.

"I hope you weren't spying."

She gives him a tiny smile, amused. "Watching you comb your hair doesn't tell me anything. Watching you shower doesn't tell me anything either."

"Sure it does." He smirks at her.

"Anything new," she clarifies. "We all know you're pretty, with or without your clothes."

Bucky isn't Steve. He doesn't blush. He gets the feeling she's softening him up on purpose.

"Lots of girls used to think so," he tells her mildly.

Ignoring that, she comes up behind him, touching a spot on the back of his shoulder. "That's a new one. What stupid thing did you do this time? Wait. It still looks red. Let me see."

She pushes him so he's leaning on his elbows on the counter, pretending to trace the line where a knife grazed him last week. He's about to tell her he appreciates the concern, that Steve has already made him promise to keep his appointments with medical, when her free hand slips under the back of her jacket. He glances up into the mirror just in time to see Clint's wooden paddle in her hand before she wrenches back her arm and hits him hard across the ass with it.

"Ow!" Bucky yells. "Not you too."

She hits him again. "You like it."

Natasha keeps on hitting him, one hand on his back to keep him still. She's got more power than Clint, but Bucky's not even sure this is right. He knows the world has changed, but he's not sure your ex-lover is supposed to spank you in an empty locker room when you've only got your pants on and have a boyfriend.

She's not stopping though. Somehow, Bucky ends up with his cheek on the cold counter, bent over while she goes to town with the paddle. He grunts with each blow and swears he hears her giggling. 

*

He gets a "Happy Birthday, James," a kiss on the corner of his mouth that's inappropriate on purpose, and a present wrapped with a girly pink bow. 

It's one of those Kindle things, loaded with books to help "give him culture."

*

Steve's away with Banner and Stark and Thor, so Bucky eats lunch with Sam. They talk about the game last night and Sam teases him about which female agents he thinks are hot for "a little dark and bionic" even though Bucky is spoken for. 

They get up when they're done and Sam makes a show of looking him over.

He brushes something off the shoulder of Bucky's sweatshirt.

"Think you've got something on you. Turn around."

Bucky turns. It's a mistake, because in a blink his ass is smacked so hard he lurches forward and grabs the table with his metal arm.

"Jesus!"

"He's not gonna help you, birthday boy." Out of the corner of Bucky's eye, he sees the paddle in Sam's hand, though his ass knows the feel of it by now like his hands would know a weapon blindfolded. Sam gives him another good whack with it. "Pull a guy out of the sky." Whack. "Kick me off a building." Whack. "I've been waiting for this." Whack. Whack. Whack.

"I said I was sorry!" It's a little too close to a whine. Bucky grips the table against another blow. "I wasn't me."

Sam doesn't care. He just hits him harder. In front of the whole lunchroom. 

"Shut up and bend over. I'm just getting warmed up."

*

After that, you would think Sam hated him. But now that he's settled his score, he gives Bucky his birthday present. They're going to a baseball game next weekend. Without Steve, Sam adds with a smile, "because someone's got to give poor Cap a break."

*

At one o'clock, Bucky goes to Fury. They have a mission to discuss. HYDRA cell, too dirty for Steve. 

Fury's sitting in his chair, intel on the screen in front of him. 

"So you want these guys brought back alive?" Bucky asks—hopes, because he doesn't want to kill another person, but he'll do it to save lives if he has to.

"Now that depends." Fury zooms in on something on the computer screen. "There's something I want you to see from our sattelite photos. Why don't you come here and tell me what you think."

Bucky comes closer, leaning over the desk to see what Fury's looking at. One minute he's staring at human-shaped shadows going into a building, the next a surprisingly strong arm grabs him around the waist and he's yanked onto Fury's lap.

It's the fact that Bucky is completely caught off guard that allows Fury to manhandle him so he's facedown across his knees. Fury slides Bucky's new friend the wooden paddle out from under a pile of printed photos, and-

Oh god.

It's sheer mortification that paralyzes Bucky this time as Fury brings the paddle down on his thrice-abused ass. He's not gentle, and Bucky wants to squirm. He also wants to pretend this isn't happening, that he isn't lying over Fury's lap getting spanked like a naughty kid.

"You gonna take your birthday spanking like a man?" Fury taunts as the paddle comes down again and again. Bucky grunts and bites his lip. "What's that, Barnes?" Fury whacks him again. "Am I going to easy on you, operative of your caliber? I wouldn't want to insult you."

He paddles with more force, each blow raising spots of fire through Bucky's pants until Bucky is biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from letting out a single "ow."

"That's right," Fury says smugly. "Hold it in. I don't need crybabies for agents."

Bucky should laugh, because he's been tortured he doesn't know how many times and been through what would break most men, but if he does he knows Fury will just hit him harder and it's bad enough that Nick Fury is paddling his ass with a vengeance at all. 

*

Bucky thought it couldn't get any worse than the awkward, traumatizing experience he just had in Fury's office, even if he got a sweet modified handgun for a present, but apparently the damn paddle is being passed all around the helicarrier and everyone wants in on the birthday fun. 

Agents he's taken to pieces on the sparring mat spank him. The scientists and doctors who regularly run tests on him spank him. His three therapists chase him with that stupid paddle and spank him. Agent Thirteen spanks him, only to pass the paddle to Maria Hill. They all give him presents—gift cards, restaurant cards—but by late afternoon, Bucky's ass can't take it anymore. 

 

Everywhere he turns someone whacks him. Thor winds up with the paddle when the Avengers return, and he's stronger than Bucky and Steve put together.

"I shall give your behind a sound beating!" He declares with a hearty laugh, picking Bucky up and throwing him over his shoulder.

It's sound all right, like thunder itself.

After that, Bucky takes to hiding until his birthday is over. Hiding and recovering.

*

It's Steve who finds him, tucked nearly invisible in the shadows of a stairwell. He wouldn't have found him at all if Bucky hadn't whispered his name as he went by. He sounded so worried, calling out for him. 

Steve crouches down. "You scared me. I've been searching everywhere for you."

"Sorry." Bucky rolls onto his side where he'd been giving his ass a rest lying on his stomach. "Had to lay low for the rest of the day."

"You all right?" Concern paints Steve's stupid earnest face. Bucky feels bad because Steve probably thinks it's a panic attack or his underlying fear of himself that has him hiding like this.

"Yeah, just..." Bucky pushes himself to his knees with a wince. His ass is going to be bruised tomorrow and in retaliation he's going to make a point of learning the birthday of every single person who spanked him. "I won't be sitting down for a while. Word got out that it's my birthday. They were passing around a paddle. I got a lot of revenge to plan."

"A pad-" Steve doesn't try to hold it in. He starts laughing. Bucky glares at him, but it doesn't do any good. Apparently, the idea of the Winter Soldier hiding from a barrage of birthday spankings is fucking hilarious. "I wish I could have seen it!"

Steve is wiping tears, and Bucky gets the feeling he hasn't laughed this hard in a long time. He can see by Bucky's face that he really hurts though and gets control of himself.

"Come on." He holds out a hand. "Let's get you home where it's just you and me."

*

They take a shower together, touching and kissing. Bucky doesn't check in the mirror, but Steve tells him his ass is pretty red from all the abuse it got that day.

"It's my turn with you now though," he says. "I wanted to make you a nice dinner, but it's too late so we'll have to save that for tomorrow. It's not too late for the rest though."

Steve picks Bucky up and carries him to bed. He lays him down and gets him to turn over so he's lying on his stomach. Bucky gets comfortable, with his head on a pillow and his arms folded. Steve kneels between his slightly spread legs, hands slick with oil he warmed in the microwave.

"Just relax," he coaxes gently and starts to work the tension out of his shoulders.

Bucky moans appreciatively. Steve's hands take their time rubbing all the way down his back to his sore ass that he cups and squeezes and kneads. Bucky's cock hardens and Steve runs his fingertips between his cheeks just enough to get Bucky a little harder thinking about Steve inside him, doing all the work, while he lies here. Steve takes his hand away and smooths it in gentle circles over Bucky's tender ass again.

"Just relax," he repeats, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Bucky's spine. "Close your eyes." 

With another small moan, Bucky closes his eyes. He's thinking about how nice a slow, deep fuck will feel when the bed shifts with the weight of Steve pushing himself to his knees.

It's the sound more than the sting of impact that startles Bucky when Steve's open palm cracks across his bare ass.

"One..." Steve starts to count. 

" _Jesus!_ " Bucky's yell gets muffled by the pillow. Steve set him up, laying him out like this, working all the tension out of him so he would be caught totally off guard. "Can't you guys leave my ass alone?" 

That single blow wakes the soreness from all the other blows and it's worse on naked skin, but Steve keeps going. "Two... three. four... I'm not going to let them outdo me, Buck. The best should come from me. Five..." The room rings with another smack and Bucky groans.

It hurts. Heat blooming wherever Steve's hand lands. 

"Six... seven... You're what? Nintey-six today? Eight."

Bucky squirms, his whole ass flushed hot and probably twice as red as half of SHIELD left it. He doesn't bother to angle his head around and look at Steve. He knows he's grinning, enjoying this way too much.

"Nine... Ten..."

Those blows land lower, where his ass meets his thighs. Bucky squirms some more, the sting almost tickling.

"Eleven..." 

Steve keeps going. By the time Steve gets to twenty-five, Bucky's ass is on fire, but Steve doesn't stop. He varies the blows as he counts, smacking one cheek and then the other in a different place each time so his palm is doing a little crackling dance over him, some blows hard enough to shake the bed, others lighter. 

By the time he gets to fifty, sweat tickles Bucky's skin, muscles tight from bracing himself. Steve spreads his cheeks apart with his free hand, spanking the sensitive insides in teasing little pats that move closer to his balls, and by the time Steve makes seventy-five, Bucky is aching hard and grinding against the covers.

The blows speed up again, loud and relentless, and when Steve hits the full ninety-six, Bucky's eyes are watering and he's kicking his feet, swearing and yelling that it hurts.

Steve kept losing count, he was so busy laughing at him, that it feels more like two hundred.

But he's done and Bucky's breathing hard. He doesn't dare roll over, not when his ass feels like smoke should be rising from it, it's burning so bad.

Steve leans down and lays his head on the back of Bucky's shoulder, kissing his skin. "Happy Birthday, Buck."

Bucky groans in response, face buried in the pillow. It's not until then, the burn starting to ebb, that he thinks about the number of people who manhandled him today and realizes that at some point they had stopped treating him as someone to be afraid of. He realizes he liked Steve spanking him too and they way it hurt. There's a rush and a strange safety in being taken to the edge of something he can stop at any time.

Steve pulls away to reach for something. Then he's straddling his thighs again, leaning close to kiss along the curve of his good shoulder. 

"Seriously this time, just relax and enjoy this."

He kisses the back of Bucky's neck. His fingers move down all the while, patiently working their way into him until it's Steve's cock Bucky wants. Steve slides inside him, warm and huge. He rolls his hips in a gentle thrust and counts, "One..."

He's got to be kidding.

But he isn't. "Two... three..." His hips move again, just right. 

By twenty, Bucky's on his hands and knees. By forty, he's on his elbows and knees, facedown and moaning. Somewhere around seventy, they've switched positions and Bucky's on his back with his thighs spread. At eighty-five, his thighs are shaking, Steve's cock feels so good, and at ninety-six, it's euphoria and Bucky is close to crying.

 


End file.
